


MINE

by blindbatalex



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, cameo by a surprise ship, minimal angst, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/pseuds/blindbatalex
Summary: “So, then.” Marcus stood up grinning. “If Marchy walked in here and for all intents and it looked as if we were making out, he’d be cool with that?”Marcus is very surprised to find out that Bergy and Marchy are not dating, given that they act like a married couple 24/7.  Worse still, Bergy is pining and so Marcus has to be the hero the two idiots deserve if not the one they need.





	MINE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fridgefish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridgefish/gifts).



> Jason, you said 'ALEXANDER WRITE THE WHOLE THING' and naturally I wrote the whole thing. <3 <3

**1.**

Marcus had a counselor in high school who pointed out to him that he tended to deal with uncertainty and stress by creating an even larger, _certain_ source of stress. An elaborate form of self-sabotage, she had called it. Marcus would think about it, and about her often long after he left high school, though rarely in time to stop himself.

*

He banged on the door yet again.

“HELLO WE ARE HERE WE ARE TRAPPED HELLO HELLO.”

“I don’t think there is anyone who can hear us,” Bergy said with elegant grace from where he had sat down by a bucket and a bunch of mops. Everything the man did was graceful, even when he was annoyed as he must be right now.

Marcus grit his teeth and sulked to the far corner of the supply closet, before sliding down the wall to sit against some low shelves with his knees drawn up to his chest. There was no real space and his sore muscles were already screaming from the uncomfortable position.

Life was just spiffy at the moment.

First, the Capitals had traded him to an irrelevant team and to New Jersey of all places, which sucked. But then, just when he got used to it the Devils traded him too, and this time of all places, to Boston, which also sucked. Then, _then_ though, this morning he came in super early to get a work out in before practice, managed to spill his coffee all over the locker room, and when he, joined by an always helpful, always early Bergeron, got to a supply closet to get a mop, the door shut and locked behind them.

Bergy must have seen some of Marcus’ great pleasure on his face, because he raised a (perfect, even under the glaring light of a single dangling bulb) eyebrow and said--

“You’ll probably be more comfortable if you sit next to me. There is more space here.”

Marcus eyed the spot Bergy patted. There was indeed more space there. But it would also mean they would be sitting snug against each other, thigh pressed against thigh, when Bergy was shirtless at the moment and yeah no. Miserable as he was, Marcus valued his life.

“Yeah, thanks, but I don’t want your boyfriend to give me another concussion.”

“My-- _what?_ ”

Bergy sounded surprised. Offended even. He must hold Marchy at a higher regard than Marcus did.

“He doesn’t strike me as the jealous type,” Marcus qualified, “but you can’t be too careful with head injury, you know what I’m saying?”

“Who, _Marchy_?”

Yes, Marchy. How many other--

“He is not my boyfriend.”

Huh. Marcus didn’t take Bergy as someone who would be hung up on labels, but he knew it mattered to some people. 

“Partner?” he tried, “significant other?” Dear Lord had they-- “ _husband_?”

Bergy laughed, the sound quick and as uncomfortable as Marcus’ bum felt in its current cramped space.

“We are not--we are not dating.”

Now it was Marcus’ turn to laugh. Right. They only spent every other waking minute together and made cow eyes at each other in every given opportunity and when they were apart no one on the team was capable of mentioning one without the other in the same sentence, because they were _not_ dating. 

(That last thing by the way, was highly bizarre. Marcus would ask where Bergy was and someone would tell him ‘oh he is talking to the media but Marchy is taking a shower’ as if the fist part of the sentence didn’t make sense without the latter. Like there was casual dating, there was commitment, and then there was practically joined at the hip even our jersey numbers were made for each other married life that these two were leading.)

Just as he was about to make fun of Bergy though, another thought occurred to Marcus. He was the new guy around here. They probably didn’t know they could trust him and you’d have to be pretty dumb not to know what the consequences could be if one teammate failed to keep his mouth shut about something like this, especially given his and Marchy’s colorful past.

“Hey man, I’m cool with it,” Marcus said, raising a hand in defense. “If I’m being completely honest” -- _please don’t be completely honest,_ a small voice in the back of Marcus’ mind implored -- “I wondered what you saw in him at first, right, when you can get any guy you want--even the straight ones--but eh, he has his charms, doesn’t he. Besides who am I to judge?”

Now Bergy was looking at him with his mouth open, a human version of the surprised Pikachu meme.

Marcus stopped.

“Too honest?”

“No,” Bergy said, color breaking in his voice, “it’s not and I appreciate--your support but--there isn’t anything. There isn’t anything to support because there is nothing between us. He is just really my friend.” 

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” he found himself asking before he could help himself. Marcus’ life in general made little sense these days but what he just heard made no sense whatsoever.

Bergy laughed again, ran a hand over his perfect face. He smiled.

“He doesn’t like me that way.” 

He grimaced before he added quickly-- 

“I mean--we don’t like each other that way. There is no why.”

“He doesn’t?”

A growing part of Marcus’ brain was now begging for him to stop. To not tread where he had no business.

But, like, also. 

This was Marchy they were talking about--the man once gave Marcus the evil eye, Mean Girls style, just because Marcus got the seat across from Bergy in the breakfast table. Referees could see how bad the man had it for Bergy.

“I think I would know,” Bergy said quietly. And Marcus hadn’t missed how he scrambled just now to change the subject of his sentence from ‘he’ to ‘we’ either.

Could it be possible, that Patrice Bergeron, four time Selke winner and a literal saint, was more of a disaster than Marcus was? The man was _pining_. And he had _no_ idea.

The thought made Marcus very happy about where he was in life.

Outside he could hear pieces of distant conversation. Laughter. A very specific, distinct laughter you could hear from two miles away--not unlike a ship horn.

“So, then.” Marcus stood up grinning.

“If Marchy walked in here and for all intents and it looked as if we were making out, he’d be cool with that?”

Mr. Pikachu laughed out of sheer surprise but recovered quickly.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, looking Marcus in the eye. 

“You wanna bet 500 bucks? Easy money if you are so sure.”

“Will you drop it when I win?”

Marcus nodded and Bergy nodded back, a manly deal struck between them.

Quickly, Marcus took off his shirt. In two steps he plonked himself down next to Bergy. 

 

The laughter was getting closer.

He put his hand on Bergy’s cheek--and man, it was easy to fall in love with this dude. So lovely was his stubble against his fingertips and so dreamy his brown eyes even under the current horrible light and the horrible circumstances.

_Easiest 500 bucks I ever made_ , he thought before he moaned, very loudly.

“Yes Bergy, just like that.”

Muffled through a wall, he heard a distinct _what the fuck_.

Very soon, he would be thinking of his high school counselor.

~*~

**2.**

The door swung upon hard enough to shake the ground, and just when Marcus was enjoying the warmth of Bergy’s gorgeous lips too.

Marcus made a point to look at the figure standing at the door through his eyelashes, eyes half gone, a hand lost in Bergy’s hair.

But it didn’t last very long because in the next moment he was being yanked up by considerable force. He ducked just in time to save his head from hitting a broom. Really, such a short man should not have so much upper body strength.

“JoJo what the fuck.”

_Hey, ouch_ , Marcus wanted to reply. Instead, he said, “you interrupted before we could get to that part,” smug as you please.

Way closer to his ear than Marcus would have liked, Marchy hissed. It was impossible to miss the way the grip against his collar tightened at the words.

“Listen Marchy it’s not what--” Bergy started to say from the floor but Marcus didn’t let him finish.

“You need to let me do the talking,” he said as a warning. Then, because messing with Marchy like this was a lot more fun than he ever imagined (and boy he imagined it) he added, “ _babe_.”

“Does anyone care to explain what’s happening here?” Marchy asked, trying very hard not to breathe fire. 

“For one, can you please let me go, we play on the same team now,” Marchy did--almost threw Marcus against the back wall. Marcus regained his footing and stared Marchy down. “And for two, what does it look like.” 

God he was making it too easy for Marcus. These two were literally blind as a bat.

Marchy looked at Bergy, a renaissance painting of betrayal and hurt.

“Convinced?” Marcus asked Bergy, who shook his head. Though that might have been from shock, Marcus decided it best to keep rolling. Distantly he thought about his high school counselor and about self-sabotage.

Marchy was still looking like he was going to implode at any moment.

“You have a problem with it or what?”

“Yes I have a problem with it!” came the quick reply. “What if someone walked in on you?”

Marcus shrugged.

“Bergy assured me that there were no homophobes on this team. But judging by your reaction--” he paused for a beat for the dramatic effect, “maybe he was wrong.”

“I--” Marchy sneered. “ _What the fuck_ \--of course not.” His fingers curled into two fists at his side. If Marcus had known this was the way to get a rise out of the man he would have done it a very long time ago. 

Marchy turned to Bergy. Opened his mouth but no words came out.

“Then?”

Marchy’s eyes flicked back to him. Marcus braced himself for the punch he knew was coming. _I am definitely getting another concussion_ , he rued briefly.

But then nothing happened.

Marchy turned around, and as abruptly as he came in huffed away.

Marcus sank against the shelves on the back with relief and giddy delight.

“You owe me 500 bucks,” he told a Bergy who appeared to be still too stunned for words. “Now go talk to him.”

~*~

**3.**

Brad stomped his way to the showers. He couldn’t hear very much except for the ringing in his ears, anger coursing red hot through his veins. It was a small blessing he didn’t run into anyone on the way.

He got into a stall, slammed the door after him and stopped himself, just in the nick of time, from punching the tiled wall with all he had.

He slid down against it instead, and put his head between his knees, trying to concentrate on taking long, even breaths.

It was pathetic. He was pathetic. This was not an okay reaction to have to walking in on a friend making out with a guy and yet here he was, on the bathroom floor.

It wasn’t as if--

Sure there was that one time when he hooked up with Bergy and really really wanted to stay and bury himself in Bergy’s arms, but he couldn’t--he knew he wasn’t allowed to--but he’d made his peace with it. That Bergy would find someone, a good girl, and settle down, the way hockey players were meant to and always did and maybe he would even get to be the best man but God--

Seeing JoJo there in a supply closet, smug, lecherous--JoJo of all people--

He made a choked off sound that was closer to a whimper than he would like to admit.

“Brad?” 

A pair of graceful legs came to a stop on the other side of the stall door before the last of the sound died.

Great. Just great.

“Can you uh, give me a minute?” Brad asked in what he hoped was an even voice.

“So there are some things you should know.”

Brad felt like he was going to be sick from the guilt and the shame and the anger that wouldn’t let him be. Let one thing go for once Patrice, will you.

“Look, I am sorry I was so--hostile to Marcus just now. I’ll apologize to him too and--not that you need it but--you have my blessing.”

Ha. He had surgeries that felt less painful than saying all that. A better man would have meant it.

“We made a bet,” Patrice said, instead of acknowledging his apology. 

_Hope it wasn’t on whether I could take something as an adult for once, because boy, you just lost some money._

“Marcus thought we were dating. I told him you didn’t like me that way. He bet 500 bucks he could prove me wrong.”

Brad laughed at that despite himself. Good to know he was so transparent that even someone who had been around them for two weeks could read him like an open book. It did not sound like a sound a person in their right mind would make.

“We are really easy to read apparently,” Bergy echoed.

Wait--

\-- _we?_

“If you opened this door we could make out in that stall.”

Wait--

\-- _huh?_

Was Bergy for real?

“Are you for real?” Brad asked.

A laugh, open and beautiful like sunrise. 

“Yes Brad, I am for real.”

Bergy...wanted… _him_?

“You want me?”

“Yep.”

“...not JoJo.”

“Nope.”

A hand snuck under the stall door, palm up, fingers outstretched. Bergy had such beautiful hands.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Bergy admitted. Brad clasped the hand in his own. “To be honest with you I don’t think I was thinking.”

Because everything had just the perfect timing today, it was in this very moment two people decided to walk into the bathroom. Carlo made a sound that could only be described as a shriek.

“What are you to up to?” Backes said, in a voice that sounded way too casual. Brad imagined him casually removing his hand from Carlo’s shoulder.

“Just holding hands under a shower stall.” Brad replied, as one did. “What about you?”

“Oh we thought we would...inspect the tiles for a bit,” Backes said, just as casually as before. “But we can wait until after practice.”

He opened the door to let Bergy in after they left, giggled against Bergy’s shoulder once he was sitting next to him, relief and delight bubbling out of him. Bergy had already snaked an arm around him and was holding him delightfully close. Brad sat on the floor of this very stall more times than he cared to admit but it never ever felt this good.

“Tell me,” he said, “that Backes had his hand on Carlo’s shoulder.”

Bergy nodded, biting down on a smile.

They didn’t say much after that, what with making out like teenagers and what not.

(To no one’s surprise, Bergy’s lips were just as perfect as he remembered.)

**Author's Note:**

> You know those please don't feed the animals signs at zoos and stuff? I'm like that but in reverse: please feed the author comments--that's how I survive and thrive and come back to write more!
> 
> I'm also at [@blindbatalex](https://blindbatalex.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to come holler at me. This entire fic came from a prompt ask, for example.


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